Corn Dumplings
by Anycents
Summary: Sanji doing what he always does in his free time: discovering new ingredients, learning new recipes, changing peoples' lives…
1. Chapter 1

Barranca is built into the steep sides of a river canyon striped with layers of orange and red rock. Shops and homes are carved directly into the cliffs with railed walkways and stairs running in all directions to connect the different levels. Murals, some several stories high, are carved into the steep walls, their details brought out with pigments smeared thickly onto the rock. The sides of the canyon are connected by rope bridges, each lined with dyed streamers made from the wool of some kind of local long necked sheep.

To top it off, the city's people are dressed in colorful patterned clothes woven from the same material. All in all, it makes for a vibrant view.

Franky and Sanji, seeking to restock the ship, have made their way from the large harbor at the mouth of the river to a market on one of the wider ledges. A long overhang of rock serves as a roof for a string of stalls divided up by cloth partitions. The people here seem to base their diet mostly on a mix of black beans, corn and squash with pork, lamb, and seafood serving as their main sources of protein.

Something about the scents coming from one particular stall draws Sanji in. It's a small stand selling local fare, but he can see that it's getting steady business as they move away toward the walkway's outer railing after making their purchases. Sanji hums thoughtfully as he takes the first few bites of the pork corn dumpling thing. There's something here he can't quite put his finger on.

When he's done he strolls back over and gives the vendor his best winning smile, after all, she's not only a gifted cook, she's beautiful too, graced with big doe eyes and inviting curves, "Pardon me radiant goddess of the culinary arts, but you're cooking is so amazing I couldn't leave without offering my praises."

The young woman running the food stand is a bit taken aback by the way Sanji flares his nostrils at her, but she smiles at him politely, "Well, my Ma actually makes them. I just sell them."

Sanji is undeterred, "Do you think your talented mother would be willing to speak with me? I would love to know what spices she uses."

The vendor studies him uncertainly for a moment, "I'm not sure, she can be very, um, picky about who she talks to. She _might_ be willing to tell you if you're polite and compliment her cooking."

"Of course, a lady deserves to be praised," Sanji coos at her.

Franky snorts, "Yeah, that shouldn't be a problem."

The vendor sighs, "Maybe it will put her in a better mood. Ma is always complaining that my sister and I don't have any talent for this stuff. She doesn't get that we want to do something more with our lives then _cook_. Did you know there's a place called Water Seven in paradise where they build ships that travel _all over_ the world? I want to travel there someday."

Franky perks up at this and, before Sanji knows it, they are discussing the many fine qualities of the shipwright's home island.

Sanji lights a cigarette and leans on the outer railing enjoying the view for a few minutes. When he snuffs the stub the conversation is still going strong, they have somehow moved on to the topic of rigging and the qualities of the rope they use to make bridges in Barranca.

The chef clears his throat, "Excuse me, my adorably frank flower, but could you tell me where I can find your esteemed mother?"

The young lady blinks, as if surprised Sanji is still around. She points, "Take those stairs up till you get to Rose Street and then follow the walkway up river till you see a green door with a mermaid painted on it. Tell Ma that Maritza sent you."

He nods and smiles and she gives him a polite smile in return before turning back to her conversation with Franky.

Sanji heads off up the stairs. After a fifteen minute walk he finds the green door with a white painting of a split tailed mermaid stenciled on it.

A woman in her late thirties, short and curvy, as the people here tend to be, but with lighter coloration then Maritza, answers the door. Her bun and apron give her a motherly air.

He smiles and gives a bow, "Hello mam."

The lady smiles in return, "How can I help you young man?"

Encouraged he continues, "My name is Sanji. I'm a chef and, while touring this picturesque city, your radiant daughter Maritza introduced me to this lovely specialty of yours. If you'd be willing to teach me the recipe, I'd be happy to help with the prep work. I even have a couple recipes you might be interested in…"

As he speaks her smile transforms into a frown of disapproval and a look comes into her eye that reminds Sanji of Zeff when he's daring his apprentice to say one more thing and see what it gets him. "Arrogant boy. You think I'm going to tell you something like that just because you smile at me." She continues, building up steam "Men shouldn't even be cooks, they treat everything like it's a chance to show off. That's no proper attitude for a kitchen. My daughter should have known better then to waste my time and yours by sending you up here." Sanji takes a breath to respond, but before he can utter a word, she slams the door in his face.

He stares at the door for a few moments, then turns away, pulls his cigarettes out of his pocket and lights one up, taking measured draws as he works his way back down to the main market.

When he gets back to the main thoroughfare and the food stand Franky and Maritza are still chatting. They are discussing methods of pumping water to high places now.

Maritza smiles when she sees him coming back, "Did you find it? Did my Ma answer your questions?"

Sanji smiles around his second cigarette and shakes his head, "No, but I have some ideas about winning her over."

Maritza nods her head uncertainly, and then hesitates, "I wanted to say sorry for my comment earlier. Cooking just isn't for me, you know?"

Sanji rolls his cigarette back and forth in his mouth thinking about his recent encounter, "Not at all. As I'm sure Franky has told you, Water Seven is a beautiful city, full of opportunity. If I were you I would want to get there as soon as possible."

The young woman stares at him for a second, then blushes and shades her eyes with her hand, "I should have warned you better about my Ma's temper. I knew she had some opinions about men cooking, but I didn't think she'd just turn you down flat."

He blows some smoke out of the side of his mouth, "At least I didn't get kicked in the head."

Franky snorts at that, "That's setting the bar pretty low, bro."

Franky and Sanji say their goodbyes and start to work their way back along the walkways and stairs to the docks.

When Sanji finishes his second cigarette and doesn't light up another, Franky decides to ask, "So what happened?"

The cook gives a wry smile, "Mrs. Regina doesn't think men should cook, I'll change her mind though."

Franky scowls, "Sounds to me like she's a b-" Sanji thumps the cyborg in the shin with the side of his foot without breaking stride.

"Zeff is the same way only with women. He apparently can't wrap his senile brain around the idea of teaching without blunt trauma being involved and he doesn't think women should be put through that. She's no worse than him."

Franky, raises his eyebrows and looks down at Sanji in confusion, "I thought you, ya know, agreed with him about that."

Sanji hunches his shoulders in irritation at having to explain, "A real man would never lay a finger on a woman. Doesn't mean I agreed with the crap geezer trying to give me a concussion half a dozen times a day. Thanks to him, practically the only women I ever got to see were on a date or with their families."

Franky looks thoughtful, and then says with an air of realization, "So you basically never had an actual conversation with a woman until you joined the crew. That explains so much. Do Robin and Nami know about this?"

Sanji growls and jumps up into a spinning kick, driving his heel toward Franky's forehead, "Oh Shut The Fuck Up!" Franky crosses his arms in front of his face and skids back about twenty feet before regaining his footing. Sanji is stalking off ahead of him.

Franky chuckles and strolls after, continuing in the general direction of the harbor. He catches up to Sanji leaning on the railing of a landing overlooking the fish market. Women's clothing in Barranca favors tight colorful scoop necked shirts that emphasize all the ins and outs of the city's naturally curvy natives.

Franky leans on the railing next to the cook. It is a rather nice view from up here.

After a few minutes Sanji straightens up, "Ok let's get back, I have some cooking to do. I want to try some things out with the new recipes I've collected. This place has tons of interesting ingredients. Did you know they have seventy-two different varieties of potatoes here?"

Franky considers this information for a moment, "It's all French fries in the end, right bro?" he slaps Sanji on the back and laughs.

Sanji snorts, "Potatoes have to be at least as interesting as rope. Did you really spend the whole time I was gone talking about that with that lovely vendor?"

Frank shrugs, "We talked about water pumps a bit too."

They walk along in silence for a few minutes, both contemplating the strangeness of the things their crewmates find interesting.

Franky thinks about what Sanji told him about disagreeing with his mentor, "You would teach a woman though wouldn't you? If she wanted to learn to cook?"

Sanji glares up Franky as if he's a moron, "Of course, it's a man's duty to help a lady's dreams come true."

The chef gets a dopey look, "How could I deny a lovely lady my personal instruction if that's what she wanted." After a couples seconds Sanji punctuates his statement with a warbling noise, indicating he has gone off on a personal tangent to the conversation.

Franky adds, "Even if she was really bad and broke your stuff?"

Franky can practically hear the other man's daydream shattering. Sanji stutters, "Well…of course…"

"And wasted food?" The shipwright presses.

Sanji doesn't respond and when Franky looks down he realizes he's gone too far. The chef is starting to hyperventilate. Franky thumps the younger man on the back, "Oh look," he casts around for something to point out, "Uh, a sale on halibut."

It works surprisingly well, Sanji snaps out of his daze and trots over to the stand, "Oh, I know the perfect dish for that!"

Franky thinks to himself that they need to form some kind of contingency plan in case this ever _does_ become an issue. He doesn't want anyone traumatizing his crewmate and ruining the kitchen _he_ built after all.

When they get back Franky starts sorting through the supplies he ordered, which are now piled up on the deck. Sanji goes into the kitchen and checks on the large sacks and barrels of dry goods that have been stacked in the pantry and the perishables that have been stored in the freezer and fridge. He spends some time shifting things around to his satisfaction.

He grins to himself as he finishes and starts unpacking the smaller packages that have been left on the counter. They contain local ingredients and specialty items he wants to try out.

As he sorts through his finds, he considers what might win the older chef over. She has found part of a secret that he's only seen in one other place. To an extent he can sympathize with her disappointment that her daughters have no interest in it.

On the other hand, he's pretty sure the recipes wouldn't even work for someone who has no fire in their soul when it comes to cooking. She would be wiser to find an apprentice and stop trying to douse the passion her daughters harbor for other things.

But that is not the problem of the moment.

Barranca is a busy port and as a result there are local variations on a wide variety of dishes; however the food Regina's stand offers is considered the native fare. She's obviously a very traditional sort of person, both in her cooking and her views.

So, he should probably stick with local fare.

He had gone through hell to acquire all those recipes, but he wouldn't be able to call himself a proper chef if he'd been content just to memorize the creations of others.

When he'd gotten strong enough to create some breathing room for himself, he'd spent most of free time experimenting with what he'd learned. He'd even had some interesting conversations with some of his adversaries regarding the recipes he won from them.

One of the strangest things about the Attack Cuisine recipes is that they are made of common ingredients. They would hardly be useful otherwise.

He considers which combinations would meld well with the local fare.

* * *

The sun is couple hand spans above the horizon when Sanji walks back up the stairs, stacked wooden boxes strapped together and carried over his shoulder. He knocks on the green door again.

When Regina opens the door and sees him her polite smile quickly falls into a scowl. Sanji speaks quickly, "Mam, I assure you cooking is my life. I take it very seriously. Give me a chance, I won't disappoint you."

He smiles at her, and opens the lid on the top box, "Perhaps we can trade?"

She looks down at the cookies covered in powdered sugar and narrows her eyes, "You're also about one hundred years too early to presume to teach me anything."

Sanji's eyes widen in surprise at having his cooking so summarily rejected before it is even tasted. "Mam,-" but abruptly finds himself face to face with the grinning painted mermaid again.

Sanji lifts his left foot and taps the toe of his shoe on the ground in an unconscious gesture before closing the lid on the box. He momentarily sets the stack on the ground so he can pull out his cigarettes and light up.

He pulls in a deep breath and lets in curl out slowly, then he slings the strap back over his shoulder and strolls back along the road the follows the cliff face down river. The lowering sun brings out the colors of the cliffs, making them glow in pinks and oranges.

He follows the road all the way to the end of the canyon where it rounds out in to a balcony overlooking the harbor. He stands upright, shoulders canted back in a deliberate show of nonchalance as he finishes off his second cigarette.

There's a nice view of the ships in the harbor from here. The sunny is easy enough to spot. He is not the most heavily decorated ship, but he is the friendliest looking.

Sanji smiles, flips his cigarette butt into a trash chute and leaps the railing.

Just as his head drops below the level of the railing he hears a frightened, "No!"

He breaks mid-air and starts to hop back upward, just as a small figure slams into the railing, eyes wide in panic.

Then they look down and find him hopping back upward foot to foot.

The kid's eyes widen in surprise and then narrow in irritation, "There are rules against throwing things over the railings you know." They punctuate this statement by throwing a small paper bag they had crumpled in their hand at Sanji's head.

It bounces off his forehead and he catches it. When he looks back up he is close enough to get a clear look at the kid's face and he forgets to jump for half a second. As gravity starts to take over, he flushes in embarrassment, both at falling and at the reason for his distraction. He silently apologizes to Jinbe.

The kid has a band of black across their eyes, accented with lines of fluorescent blue across their forehead. Their mouth has a stripe of yellow across it, extending from their ears and framing a wide mouth with distinctive serrated teeth. Despite their unusual appearance, their clothing is just a more subdued version of the style of the city, dark pants, a loose, colorful shirt and a bandana tied over their head.

He lands on the wide stone railing and jumps down. The bag they tossed has a few almonds still rattling in the bottom. He takes one and tastes it, honey and chili, before tossing it back with the admonishment, "Don't waste food."

"You don't get to lecture me after doing something like that," the corners of their mouth are turned down sharply and their eyes are slightly wet.

They wipe their eyes and nose with the heel of their hand then wipe their hand on their pants.

After a moment, they self-consciously adjust their bandana and straighten out their shirt in an attempt to look more presentable before offering, "I'm Ripa."

"Sanji," he smiles, but doesn't offer his hand in light of what the kid just did with their palm. Instead, Sanji picks up the top box with the cookies in it and holds it out, "You want these? I made them myself."

The kid looks into the box, lined with cookies filled with caramelized condensed milk and decorated with powdered sugar stenciled into flowers. They eye him excitedly, "You sure?"

Sanji grins back and nods and Ripa takes a couple with a closed mouth smile, "Thanks."

The kid takes a bite and then their eyes widen and they shove the rest into their mouth. After chewing for a bit, they mumble with enthusiasm, "Vese har reeree gud!"

Crumbs fly everywhere and Sanji admonishes, "Don't talk with your mouth full." But he only raises his voice a little bit due to uncertainty regarding certain details about the person he's addressing.

They finish chewing, swallow, and lick their lips with a pleased smile. A moment later, they recall themselves and offer a sheepish, "Sorry, I got distracted by you jumping over the railing…and then the cookies."

They hesitate a moment before admitting, "I actually was following you," when Sanji narrows his eyes, they hastily add, "I wanted to apologize for my Ma being so rude to you. It's kind of my fault."

Sanji blinks a couple times, "You're Regina's kid?"… So that explains the painting on the door. When he finishes processing this, the next realization pops up, "Maritza's _sister_?"

"Humuhumuku, Yep," she gestures to the cookies, "So I probably shouldn't take those."

He holds out the box, "Here, take it. Trust me, I'm last person who would blame someone for the behavior of their relatives. It's kind of you to be so concerned about a stranger."

Ripa hides a grin behind a lifted hand, "You're nice. Who wouldn't be upset at seeing someone jumping to their death?"

A chorus of strange and malevolent laughter echoes in Sanji's head, "I can think of a few people…" after a moment he shakes his head and demands, "Just take the damn things."

Ripa complies and is soon thoughtfully chewing on another cookie, "You were heading down to the river mouth? Are you a sailor?"

She eyes the box, obviously having difficulty juxtaposing high quality cooking and sea faring.

Sanji nods, "I'm a pirate."

The kid looks intrigued, "Really! Which ship is yours?"

Sanji turns back to the view of the harbor and points, "The Thousand Sunny, the one with the lion figurehead and the cross bones wearing a hat."

When Ripa spots the ship she gasps, "You're a Strawhat?!"

Then her eyes widen and they smack their forehead, " _Blackleg_ Sanji, you helped save Fishman Island!"

Ripa lunges at him and, to his surprise, picks him up and spins him around in a hug despite only coming up to his shoulder. Then she blushes under her stripes, putting him back down, "Sorry. It's just, I have a lot of family there. I've never met them, but my mom cried when she found out what happened."

Sanji gives a distant smile and warbles, "What kind of man would I be if I let all those lovely mermaids come to harm." He misses the disconcerted look Ripa gives him.

After a moment the kid clears their throat, "That's a pretty amazing ability you have. I bet its super fun to fly around whenever you feel like it."

Sanji shrugs, "I'm usually more focused on just getting where I need to go." Ripa wrinkles her nose at this stick in the mud attitude.

He gestures at Ripa, "I'd trade it for being able to breathe under water;" Sanji looks wistful, "There's so many amazing things down there, especially on Fishman Island."

Ripa tugs on their bandana self-consciously, but nods in agreement after a moment, "I'd like to see the Sea Forest someday."

After a few moments, she adds self-consciously, "It's probably not as impressive, but there's a reef a few miles up the coast. I go down there to collect shell fish. The reef forms these tubes, kind of like wells. I like to stand at the bottom and look up." Her eyes go distant and they grin as they picture the place, "It's beautiful, with the sun reflecting off all the schools of fish. There are hundreds of different kinds and every color you can imagine."

Sanji grins, "Sounds pretty shitty amazing."

At his reply, the kid's eyes snap back to Sanji and they pull their lips in over their teeth, flushing at their slip up.

Sanji narrows his eyes, "Ripa," the fish girl flinches, "Beautiful things are worth fighting for; don't ever let someone else take your joy away from you." After a moment she swallows and nods.

Ripa stands staring at the ocean for a minute. She glances assessingly over at him a couple times and then says thoughtfully, "You went through a lot of trouble to impress my Ma. You really want her recipes that badly?"

"I've only seen the like in one other place," Sanji shudders at the memories; "A little cooking is nothing compared to what I went through for those."

He thinks for moment, then asks uncertainly, "Do you think if she knew I'm a Strawhat it would convince her to teach me?"

Ripa looks momentarily excited at this idea, until she recalls something else and grimaces, "Actually," she hesitates, then adds quickly, "It would probably be best if she _doesn't_ find out you're the Strawhat's Sanji."

Sanji bristles, "You're saying she has some kind of shitty problem with me personally? She's never even met me before!"

Ripa wilts, "We found out about Fishman Island being saved because of a letter from my aunt. She went on and on about how, uh, smitten you were with the mermaids. My aunt seemed to think it was funny, but uh, I think it reminded my Ma a bit too much of my Da."

Sanji looks like he might throw himself to his death for real this time. "Your Da?" he asks weakly.

"A sailor," Ripa explains briefly, "He helped my ma leave home and find an apprenticeship here." She adjusts the handkerchief covering her head and adds quietly while looking at her feet, "They got in a big fight not long after I was born."

"Fish tails are exotic," she briefly bares her jagged teeth, "fish teeth, on the other hand, are just weird. He hasn't been back since."

Sanji looks at the young woman slouching in front of him. He pulls out a cigarette and talks around it while he lights it, "It's dangerous out there, he might be dead." He blows out the first breath of smoke, "Or if not, tell me his name, I'll punt him into the ocean for you if I ever run into the bastard."

Ripa laughs, "Humuhumuku, and they say chivalry is dead." She doesn't divulge a name, but the idea seems to cheer her up.

She hesitates then offers uncertainly, "I have an idea to win my Ma over, if you're interested."

He nods, "I'm open to suggestions."

"My Ma really likes rainbow clams. I know where there's a bed that hasn't been harvested yet. If you help me collect them, you can have half the haul, maybe you can convince her to trade."

"That's generous of you," he sounds sincere, she can't tell if he's suspicious or not.

"It'll be a big help to me too. The shells are valuable, but they're really heavy; you can help me carry them back." She clears her throat, "My ma is pretty stubborn, I really think this is your best bet at winning her over."

Sanji studies her for moment and then smiles, "And if nothing else, I'll get to try a new food."

Ripa looks relieved, "Are you still going to be here tomorrow? It's about ten miles across the island to the cove, it would be best if we get an early start. Sound good?"

* * *

 _A/N: This is what's established in the manga regarding mermaids and fishmen:_

 _Female mermaids' tails split when they turn 30. A split tailed mermaid can pass as human, as long as she keeps the lower half of her body covered._

 _Mermaids, fishmen, and humans can all interbreed with each other and their offspring may be any of the three races. Fishmen and mermaids often do Not bear any particular resemblance their parents._

 _I hope it was clear:_

 _Regina is a mermaid_

 _Ripa and Maritza's father is human_

 _Maritza is human_

 _Ripa is, of course, a fishman (fishperson, fishwoman?)_


	2. Chapter 2

Sunrise the next morning finds Sanji and Ripa following the roads upward to the top of the canyon, munching on fresh pastries baked by Sanji and drinking from thermoses of coffee snitched from the shop by Ripa.

She tries to refuse his offer to carry the waist-high shoulder-strapped net baskets she's brought along with her tools, but he somehow succeeds in making it sound like she would be doing him a favor to let him carry them.

She's glad they got an early start. Ripa had assumed her aunt had been exaggerating about a great many things in her letter regarding the Strawhats and the downfall of Hody. She hadn't minded, it made an excellent story.

Now though…she finds the rumors passed on about Sanji far more believable. As they walk through the stirring market, she watches him grin and coo at several women who are doing nothing more provocative then setting up their stalls.

It's not like he actually _does_ anything, but the faces and noises he makes cause several of the women to pull the shutters on the stalls down and one of them to rather pointedly lay a cudgel on her counter top.

In frustration, she eventually takes hold of the baskets he is carrying for her and starts to push, hoping they will get through the market before it gets too late in the day, this provokes an offended, "Hey!" But they finally get moving and make it to the edge of town.

From the rim of the cliff the island rises more slowly in rolling hills interrupted by rocky outcrops. The land around the canyon has been divided into fields and pastures following the creeks that eventually empty into the canyon in narrow terraced waterfalls. Corn and beans wave in the breeze and llamas stare incuriously at them as they pass, chewing grass.

They work their way upward till they reach a high point where the land flattens out. It's drier up here, all brush and rocks. Ripa glances over Sanji's way before taking the handkerchief off her head to wet it down, exposing the flattened head fin that bisects her corn row braided bright yellow hair.

Sanji asks, "Is this the way you would usually go to get to this cove?"

"Normally I would swim," Ripa admits, "but there's no safe place to leave a boat, it's all cliffs along that side."

She ties the handkerchief back over her head, "I'll be fine, it's only few miles. I grew up here, I'm probably better prepared for all this sun then you are, with your pale skin."

Sanji snorts, "Defensive much?"

"Come on, let's just get past this part. It's nicer near the coast," she starts to jog and Sanji matches her pace. As they move along the landscape slowly drops again and fades into grassland. After a couple hours, the sound of waving grass blends with the rumble of crashing waves.

Ripa slows down, "Careful here." The edge of the island is abrupt, between one step and the next the grass ends and they are looking at a twenty foot drop into the ocean. Ripa studies the coast for a few moments then chooses a direction, "A bit this way."

After another half mile she when Ripa is satisfied with their location, Sanji puts down the basket and she stakes a rope to the ground dropping it over the edge so it hits the water.

Then she turns around, like that's actually going to hide anything, and pulls off her shoes, loose clothes, and head-covering handkerchief. Underneath, she's wearing a halter top and some close fitting thigh length shorts. Facing away actually gives a better of her back, which is colored with broad stripes of black and yellow, highlighted with gold. She has more fins along her spine and along the back of her forearms and calves.

She stretches and the fins snap out into stiff blade like curves. "Trigger fish," she offers in explanation over her shoulder, wanting to get the rest of the weirdness out of the way in one go.

She turns and adjusts the top looking slightly irritated, "I probably shouldn't even bother with this. Hey, you might actually know, is it normal for fish girls to be so flat chested? My ma said so, but maybe she was just trying to make me feel better."

Sanji clears his throat, looking uncomfortable and irritated, "You can't just go asking a guy questions like that. I don't know. I was kind of busy at the time."

She grins at his blush, "Humuhumuku, that must mean my ma was telling the truth, because if they'd had boobs you would have noticed."

He growls, "You're way too young to be saying things like that."

She huffs in amusement, "I'm fifteen and, just from walking across town with you, I know it's true."

Sanji scowls, "Can we just get on with shitty clam harvesting already?"

"There's a really pretty kelp forest," she pulls some goggles out of her basket and offers them to him, "You want to check it out while I pry up the clams? It shouldn't take too long."

Ripa picks up a basket, a tool that looks like a sharp edged spade, and another that looks like a claw, "Ah, this is gonna be great, it'll be nice to be able to swim here again."

She ignores Sanji's, "What was that?" as she dives in.

She orients herself and spots the clams about forty feet below. They line the base of the cliff, opening and closing in the current swirling against the rock.

She side paddles quickly when Sanji hits the water a moment later, much too close to her.

He's stripped down to his shorts and is wearing the googles. He turns looking around at the fish swimming through the kelp. His movements are confident, but Ripa feels a spike of nervousness. She'd forgotten how slow humans are in the water, it's been a long time since she swam with anyone else.

She shakes her head. He's strong. That's why she brought him along. He should be okay, even hampered by the water.

He turns toward her and smiles. He does seem to like the ocean a lot. She back paddles a little more, "What we came for is down there." She points to the clam bed, far below them and is gratified to see his eyes widen and a boyish grin come to his face.

The clams are as wide across as her forearm. The plain porcelain curve of the top of each shell contrasts beautifully with the spirals of iridescence that can be glimpsed within those open to the current. The shifting light coming through the waves on the surface creates an array of twining rainbows across the ocean floor.

Ripa takes a few moments to appreciate the sight before getting back to business. She wants to harvest maybe a fifth of what's here since she has someone to help her carry and it may be awhile before she can come back.

"They're too deep to be comfortable for you," Ripa explains quickly, "I'll bring them up. Just stay near the surface and, uh, watch out for anything that might want to eat you."

He definitely looks suspicious at that, but she turns and dives and he has to return to the surface to breathe.

She pulls out her tools and starts prying clams off the rocks. She looks up every few clams to see him circling near the surface, watching the marine wildlife.

She started avoiding this stretch of coast after finding bits of several bull sharks with bites as wide as her arm span taken out of them. However, she's nearly gotten the basket full and nothing has shown up.

Maybe she was just being cowardly.

A couple body lengths away the sand around the clam bed, which has been shifting in the current against the cliff, thrusts silently up in a column, engulfing a school of large silver bigeye trevally swimming nearby.

As a few fish left around the edges scatter, the column of sand turns its attention toward her.

And just like that, a tunnel filled with ring after ring of cooked, needle teeth is rushing toward her.

She drops down with a grunt of surprise and kicks up as the teeth pass through where she was just floating. She lands a solid strike, but it doesn't do more than elicit a rumble from the creature.

The beast's body fades to blue grey, nearly blending into the water above it, as it passes over her. The camouflaging, eel-like monster is as big around as she is tall and probably ten times that in length.

Her plan, if this monster showed up, had been to kill it herself if possible, with Sanji as backup if she couldn't handle it. She hadn't been certain what was down here, but she knows from stories that he's killed much bigger.

She belatedly notices a sharp discomfort in her wrist.

When she dropped down one of the clams snapping shut in reaction to the beast's growl had closed over part of the fin on her arm. She curls around so she can place her feet on the mouth of the clam and push away. It budges a little but not enough to get free. She growls in frustration and pain.

There's no time to mess around with this, the predator has folded back on itself and is heading for her again. She grits her teeth and before she can rethink it, swipes her spade knife though the trapped tip of her fin. It feels similar to when she sliced her palm open with a paring knife. She lets out a clench jawed yowl and launches straight up from her crouch on the clam bed. She feels the fin on the top of the beast's head brush her foot as she frantically starts paddling upward.

She's had to chase off sharks and other predators around her size before. She could hardly swim around down here without at least being able to do that, but she's never tried to deal with anything near the size of this eel before. She had been pretty sure she could at least outswim the thing, but she'd failed to realize how incredibly frightening that margin of doubt could be.

She feels a current slowing her down, the eel is sucking in water to pull her in. She pulls extra water in through her gills, blowing it out through her mouth, and pushing herself backward so she ends up beside the monster rather than in its jaws.

As it's flat black eye focuses on her, she lashes out with her spade in an attack that is more panicked then planned. Blood gushes out of its eye and its scream vibrates through her body, making her bones ache.

The beast starts to thrash and coil, smacking into her. She tumbles and starts to paddle as she stabilizes herself.

Since she's dizzy, it takes her a second to realize that she is swimming the wrong way, down instead of up. The beast spirals around and circles above her. The injury she managed to inflict might slow the monster down, but it's not going to kill it any time soon.

It's been less than thirty seconds since this started, but she's terrified that she hasn't spotted Sanji. The major flaw in not explaining her plan is that he might not have realized the importance of staying nearby.

Ripa starts to swim toward the kelp forest where she last saw blackleg, face up so she can see the beast. It tracks her, keeping its distance, but not letting her go up.

That is odd behavior for a fish, they usually either attack or flee. Stalking prey that can see you isn't usually profitable, unless…

Quickly she reorients herself upright and spins around.

She can spot three or four distortions in the water, blue grey and green to blend in with the kelp. Circling her and moving closer.

She needs to get by the one she's already injured. If she can get just behind its jaw and she can strike at its gills or other eye.

She turns and picks up as much speed as she can heading for a point just behind the beast's head. She needs to time this right. She snaps sideways just as she comes within its striking range and the teeth pass by her. Almost.

The eel's head snaps sideways and catches her foot in the corner of its mouth. She feels several sharply pointed teeth sink into her foot, grinding against the bones. She screams and starts striking wherever she can reach with her tools. This elicits more growling, but the teeth don't release her foot.

In desperation she curls herself around and clamps her teeth over the bridge of the creature's muzzle and bites down as hard as she can.

The bone between her jaws creaks and cracks. The sound is disturbing and the taste is awful, but letting go is not an option.

The beast snaps its head back and forth, opening its mouth to try and toss her away as she successfully takes a chunk out of its face. She reaches up and uses the claw tool to anchor herself, spits out the mouthful of skin and bone; and levers herself up so she can sink her spade tool into the monster's other eye.

It gives another bone rattling shriek as she pushes off its giant head. The beast is blinded and its thrashing is quickly getting weaker, but the others are circling closer. She keeps heading toward the surface, but her paddling is awkward.

If she stays here she will be caught between them, but she isn't going to be able to work up the speed for a proper charge either.

What if she was wrong and one of these things managed to sneak up on Sanji and hurt him? It would be on her head. Not that she'll have much time to regret it.

A tornado of fire strikes the surface and streaks through the water, leaving a trail of steam bubbles behind as it snaps between the creatures stalking her.

Monstrous bodies start to appear clearly, their camouflaging colors fading to dark grey as their necks are snapped one after another.

The number had been six not four, two more had been coming up underneath her.

The comet finishes up by slamming into the one still weakly thrashing behind her, causing it to go silent.

The fire dissolves into the Strawhat chef treading water in front of her. He looks pissed.

Ripa snaps her mouth shut from her slack jawed stare and tastes blood. She must look appalling right now, teeth stained red from attacking like an animal.

He has probably realized she knew there was danger here. Though it turned out to be both more and less then she had suspected.

"Well, the least I can do is keep my end of the bargain," She turns to dive down and retrieve the clams.

Sanji's arms latch around her waist and a moment later they are shooting up. He doesn't stop at the surface, continuing to push off the air until he can deposit her on the ground.

"You stay _right_ shitty here," he demands before turning and jumping back in. A minute later he is back with the basket, several hundred pounds of oversized clams resting inside. Guess she worried about the water pressure for nothing.

He rummages around in her tool basket and pulls out a towel, muttering "I turn my back for one shitty minute…"

He starts tearing the cloth into strips as she gingerly pours fresh water from her canteen over her foot. Three of the monsters teeth caught her foot between the outer most bones, they are probably cracked. She's lucky she didn't lose half her foot. She's lucky she's alive.

Sanji starts wrapping the strips of towel around her foot, still scowling. Ripa offers a quiet, "Thank you for saving me. I was hoping I could deal with the threat on my own."

Sanji's response has a growl in it, "You knew there were monsters in this cove. I figured you were hiding something from me, but I didn't think it was that you were suicidal."

Ripa takes offence at that, "I am not! I just wanted to get those clams I've had eye on for weeks! And I was being careful! I knew even if I couldn't kill whatever was here, it would be no problem for you." She hesitates, saying that last part out loud makes it sound kind of bad, "And we got the clams so its ok, right?"

Blackleg looks incredulous, "Do you think these clams are going to mean more to your mother then the fact that you nearly got eaten?"

Ripa tries to hold onto her defensiveness, "I didn't expect to get hurt this badly, so I didn't think she would find out." She wilts, that also sounds pretty bad when she says it out loud. Sanji raises an eyebrow at her.

After a few moments of struggling with her pride, she mumbles out, "Sorry for being so pathetic that you had to help me. I need to get better weapons and learn how to use them."

Sanji blinks at this conclusion, "You intend to keep swimming even though there might be more of those things lurking around?" He finishes wrapping her foot and ties off the makeshift bandage.

Ripa nods, it's obvious, isn't it? "I'm pretty much a failure as a fishman if I can't even swim in my home waters. What else am I going to do?"

Sanji snorts as he stands up and brushes off his knees, "As my captain would say, whatever the hell you want. On Fishman Island there's a whole modern city occupied almost exclusively by fishmen and mermaids. You've really never thought about what that means?"

Perhaps it is foolish that she has never consciously considered how the inhabitants of the underwater city spend their time, but it's like he just threw open the doors to a gloomy, stuffy room. All she can offer in explanation is, "I've seen other fishmen time to time. They're always pirates and usually pretty scary looking."

She shrugs her shirt back on and ties her head covering back in place as she thinks. She gets along well enough with the people in her neighborhood; they often complement her on the quality of her catches. And she loves the reef, but… "It would be nice to know what it's like to just blend into a crowd. I'd probably still be weird there, but at least it wouldn't be tattooed on my face."

"Don't sell yourself short, tropical fish markings seemed to be popular in the ads I saw in the market down there," Sanji finishes buttoning up his shirt, "And if you still want to learn to fight underwater, that _would_ be the place to go for that too."

Ripa tilts her head, "You aren't going to tell me I have to stay away from the dangerous water?"

Sanji pulls a cigarette out of his shirt pocket and talks around it as he lights up, "I've learned over time that sometimes the best way to keep people safe is to help them become stronger." He blows out smoke while looking away, "You have courage; with a little training you could rule the waters around this island."

At that compliment she grins in a sincere and, Sanji thinks, deliberately menacing way, "I like that idea."

Focusing on gingerly working her foot through the leg of her pants deflates her new found sense of bravado a bit.

Sanji puts the towels on top of the basket of clams, helps her get herself settled, and then hefts the whole three hundred plus pounds up onto his shoulders and starts jogging back along the trail to town.

He really is an amazing and incredibly kind hearted person, Ripa thinks. It's shame he turns into a flailing mess whenever he sees a pretty girl. He seems cursed to only gain the kind regard of those he doesn't desire it from. It's the first time she's felt lucky to look the way she does. She's actually gotten to talk to him.

* * *

When they get to her home, Ripa tells Sanji to wait while she goes inside to tell her mother where she has been all morning.

Regina shrieks at the bloody bandages on Ripa'a foot. Then she has to stop gathering medical supplies to thump Ripa on the head several times over the course of her daughter's story.

The fish girl finishes her confession and leans back in a chair in the kitchen, while her mother cleans out the wounds in her foot.

"Unbelievable girl, how could you do this to your poor mother?" The older woman shakes her head and then says with the air of someone looking for an out, "You sure you're not just smitten with a pretty face?"

"Maaaa, were you listening to anything I just said? He. Saved. My. Life. That's not an exaggeration. I've been dying to get to that clam bed for weeks and I did something dumb and he saved me." She pouts her already prominent lips, "If I can't convince you to teach him, who knows what I'll have to do to pay him back?"

Her mother swats her on the leg, "Don't say things like that!" She rubs the bridge of her nose and mutters, "Ah, what kind of daughter have I raised? Ok fine! Let it never be said we don't pay our debts."

* * *

Regina opens the door and addresses the younger chef leaning against the wall of her house.

"Ok, young man, I owe you thanks for saving my foolish daughter's life," she gestures to the basket and actually smiles; "The bribe doesn't hurt either. Drag that in here."

Regina hefts the first giant clam out of the basket and starts scrubbing down its outer shell. Ripa limps over to a large wooden butcher's block and pulls out a cleaver. She takes the first cleaned clam, places one hand on top and swings hard with the thick bladed knife wedging it into the seam of the shell. See works it around a little before pulling it out and repeating the process two more times on the front and other side.

With a final twist and a huff she pries the two halves of the clam shell apart. The inside is lined with creamy white swirled with fractal spirals of iridescent color. Ripa uses a smaller knife to cut the clam meat away from the shell. They now have about three pounds of clam meat and ten pounds of shell.

Sanji, who had watched the process, eagerly reaches for the next clam, "Here, let me try." He steps up to the block and deftly wedges the heavy knife into the shell, smoothly dragging it around the seam and popping it open with a twist of the blade.

When he looks up from cutting the meat away Ripa is giving him a toothy smile, she holds out a colander for him to put the meat into and nods toward her mother. He glances over to see Regina giving him a look of consternation, which she quickly covers by handing him another clam and turning back to the basket.

Ripa leaves him to split the clams and starts helping her mother scrub. Pretty soon they have about sixty pounds of the greyish meat ready to be made into dishes. As Regina and Sanji start discussing recipes, Ripa starts quietly moving half the shells into another room so she can work on them without disturbing the two chefs.

She can tell her mother's defensiveness is still warring with her desire to talk shop with someone who shares the passion that drove her to leave her home all those years ago. Sanji is unwaveringly polite though as she starts giving him instructions.

Her Ma has him start chopping onions; apparently most dishes that involve clams also require onions. The kitchen is filled with the rapid fire clatter of the knife against the board. Ripa pauses for a few moments to appreciate his speed. She's no cook, but it takes confidence and skill to pass a knife that close to one's fingers that fast. She looks over and just barely avoids giggling at her mother's dumbfounded expression. She hefts up the last few shells and limps to her workbench.

A couple hours later she finishes grinding the first shell down to its iridescent inner lining and stops to stretch. She pulls off her dust mask and goggles and shakes out her bandanna before going to check on them.

There're lots of wonderful smells coming from the kitchen now. They've finished with clams and moved on to what Sanji had originally come to ask about. There's a pot of seafood stew on the stove. She takes a bowl and sits down at the kitchen table.

Regina gestures at a large bowl filled with corn kernels stripped off their cobs, "If you want to keep all of the flavor you need to make the dough directly from fresh corn," she pulls out the bag of slaked lime she keeps in one of the cabinets and starts measuring it into a pot of water, "This will help soften it up."

"If you do use the dried stuff, keep in mind that even that is _not_ the same as corn meal," she waves the measuring cup at him, like she thinks he's going to contradict her on this point.

Sanji smiles, "Of course not mam, they don't even use the same types of corn."

While they're waiting for the corn to soak Regina starts going over prepping the pork and seasoning for the filling.

Ripa sidles over and takes another bowl of stew. Her Ma is going over stuff even Ripa knows about trimming meat, but Sanji just nods as she talks and then starts working on the pork loin while asking questions about the chilies used in the seasoning.

She finishes up the second bowl, letting the conversation flow past her. She knows she won't remember most of what they're talking about right now, but it's fascinating how engaged they both are in the conversation.

She hopes someday she finds something that makes her light up like that.

In the meantime, she will keep saving up to help her sister get to Water Seven. She smiles at the thought of accompanying Maritza as far as Fishman Island. It's a long journey and a dangerous one, it would be better if they make it together.

She should write her aunt. These are turbulent times in her mother's old home, and yet soon they may be safer there then in the New World, considering the recent unbalancing of the Emperors' domains.

Ripa gets up to get another bowl of stew. She's is glad her mother has never paid much attention to the bounty posters. It would probably be best if she doesn't discover that the man now blending chilies and spices on other side of the counter from her had a major hand in that as well.

* * *

 _I thought about naming this story 'Sanji's True Love,' but I was worried that, despite the tags, that might lead people to expect shipping._

 _Thank you for reading :)_  
 _Constructive criticism or tag suggestions welcome._


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